


My Sweetheart, Your Sweet Tooth

by DenDragon14



Series: Dysfunctional Newsies [5]
Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Boyfriends, Cake, Chocolate, Domestic Boyfriends, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Loose Connection to Eating Disorders, M/M, One Shot, References to Addiction, Short & Sweet, Slice of Life, Sweet, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Valentine's Day, good boyfriends, unhealthy eating habits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:22:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22757719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DenDragon14/pseuds/DenDragon14
Summary: Spot has a really, really bad sweet tooth. Especially for anything with chocolate in it.Race wants to try and celebrate Valentine's Day with his Valentine, so he gets a specially ordered cake for him and Spot to share, unknowing of Spot's unhealthy addiction to the sweet substance known as chocolate.
Relationships: Spot Conlon/Racetrack Higgins
Series: Dysfunctional Newsies [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1608244
Comments: 3
Kudos: 33





	My Sweetheart, Your Sweet Tooth

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Belated Valentine's Day!  
> Sorry in advance for an errors, I was struggling with sinus pain while editing this while procrastinating with an essay. I don't normally write romance, it's not really my thing, but I thought I'd try it out this time. Anyways, enjoy!

Saying Spot Conlon had a sweet tooth was an understatment. He was an absolute whore for sweets, particularly chocolate. If it had chocolate in it, he would eat it. Didn't matter if if was white, dark or some of that fruity flavored choclate, he loved it all.  
  
Holidays were a difficult time for him. Christmas, Easter, Valentine's Day, each of them offered a shit ton of chocolate to be displayed at the front of the store in hopes that people would buy it and it was impossible to go grocery shopping with out walking into a wall of it.

Most often around the holidays he refrained from physically going out to the stores since the temptation was just too great. And although he wasn't the most technologically inclined, he was grateful for online shopping. It helped him buy groceries as well as gifts for friends and family without enduring the torment that was the chocolate and confectionary that littered grocery store aisles.   
  
However, he was unaware of what Race had in store for him that day.

* * *

It was Valentine's Day. He and Spot had been together for two years now and neither of them had done anything really romantic last years for Valentine's. He wanted to make this Valentine's Day special, so Race got the ambitious idea to bake a cake, literally. However, that ended in a near disaster, so what he did was head to the best bakery he knew and order a specially made cake. He got a small circular cake, red velvet and buttercream icing. Simple but a classic and large enough for two people to share for several days. 

Although he was rather dreadful when it came to baking, cooking was a different story. He made dinner for the two of them last year, and he planned to do it again this year. His mother had a generous amount of recipes that she had shared with him and he was eager to try all of them at one point or another. So he'd be surprising Spot with both a home cooked meal and a delicious dessert. And then with the cake, and a good bottle of wine, he wanted to spend the night together in their bedroom and just chat, snuggle and enjoy each other's company.

* * *

Spot arrived home from the gym to find Race in the kitchen, setting out pots and pans to prepare for dinner. He loved it when Race decided to cook. Race had a long list of Italian dishes he wanted to try and Spot always loved coming home to the salivating scents of 

"I got a surprise for you, my Valentine." Spot smirked and dropped his backpack onto one of the barstools.  
  
"Yeah?" he asked. "Will I like it?"

Race hummed. "I hope so. Close your eyes." Spot did as asked and listened as he heard Race clambering around for something and the rustle of bags, the sound of something being pulled out of a drawer and the sound of carboard box being opened. He caught a subtle, sweet scent and swallowed heavily as his salivary glands activated. 

"Now open your mouth."  
  
Spot pulled back. He wasn't one for surprises to begin with, but generally if it was from Tony, then it was safe. However, the last "surprise" he'd received had been a pie to the face by Jack in the middle of work day. And he was still pissed about that. "Why?"  
  
Race patted his shoulder. "Relax, I ain't shoving my tongue down your throat," he said, smiling. "Not yet at least."

A baked good. Cake. Oh, god, his senses hadn't been tricking him.  
"Mmm." It was rich, and moist and bursting with flavor. It wasn't overly sweet and the buttercream frosting between the layers was heavenly _No. It's red velvet; that's still fucking chocolate, you moron. Damnit.  
  
_ He opened his eyes and got up from his chair and spun around to spit the cake out into the sink. He turned the tap on and watched the disgraced, half chewed baked good wash down the drain.  
  
"What the hell, Tony," he snapped, wiping his mouth. Race's eyes were a mix of confusion and sorrow and Spot's heart twanged in pain at the sight; he hated it when he was responsible for giving Tony that look. He knew well enough now that Race tended to be a bit of a people pleaser, and Spot was numero uno when it came to that, so if he wasn't pleased then Race wasn't happy.

"You don' like it?"   
  
"No! I don't like it." _I love it! It's the best thing I've tasted in nearly two years!_

Dinner was delicious, although since the ruined cake surprise there had been a tension between the two that neither of them seemed willing to discuss at that moment. The rest of the night was spent with them keeping each other at a distance although Spot spent the majority of the evening trapped in his head as he debated about how to diffuse the tension between them. Unfortunately, his unromantic, insensitive brain couldn't think of anything that he deemed worthy enough. Eventually, Race retired to the bedroom first and even attempted to drag him along, although Spot just wanted to sit and wallow in his own self pity and misery because Tony did not deserve him, not in the slightest.  
  
Race pouted and whined before giving up, seeing that he wasn't going to budge and the sad, puppy dog eyes that he gave Spot damn near melted his heart. He sat out in the living room and stared blankly at the television as infomercials played. Since dinner, the little voice in his head longed for another taste of that cake. When he'd gone to get another drink of water, he'd opened the fridge just to gawk at the cardboard box that held the sweet confectionary.

Fucking stupid obsessive little voice. _Have some will power, Spot. You do not need it._ He went to bed with that mantra in mind, however that only resulted in aiding in his difficulty to sleep. Eventually, when he focused on Race's slow, even breathing was he finally able to drift off into unconsciousness.

* * *

He'd snuck out of bed in the wee hours of the morning and found himself staring at the fridge door.  
  
Open.  
  
Close.  
  
Open.  
  
Close.

Open. _No, close it, you damn pussy._

He groaned and pressed the heels of his hands to his temples; the little nagging voice in his head had been ranting about that god damn cake all night long. He thought dinner might have quieted it, because Tony made a damn good Bolognese, but that little voice wanted cake. It wanted the chocolate. It started with a small piece. Just one, he promised himself, nothing more. But one had turned to two and before he knew it, he was devouring the entire thing like he might die of starvation.

Now he sat hunched over at the kitchen island, tears blurring his vision. He wiped at his eyes and stared at what was left of the small circular cake. Not much, just the icing really. Buttercream icing was the best in his opinion, but he could only have so much before his stomach started to revolt and he started to feel sick. He was surprised that he'd eaten nearly all of it without starting to feel naseuous.

"Fuck it."

He wasn't at all graceful as he shoveled the few remaining mouthfuls in before downing it with a glass of milk. As quietly as possible, he disposed of the crumbs and hand washed the dish before placing it back in the cupboard. With his stomach now full and the nagging little voice in his head quieted for the time being, Spot tip toed back to bed and slid back under the covers.

For about an hour or so he stared up at the ceiling, regretting his choice to eat that stupid, delicious cake.

He'd feel guilty about it in the morning.

* * *

Race was nearly out the door to work when he remembered he'd forgotten the flash drive with his current project in his laptop. He hurried back toward their bedroom, careful not to sleep on the laminated wood floor in his socked feet.

It sounded like crying, or rather, as someone was trying to muffle their crying. He stopped mid step and peeked in through the doorway. Spot sat in their home office, curled up in the arm chair by the window, his forehead pressed to his knees.

Was Spot crying?

An invisible hand clamped around Race's heart; he'd never seen Spot cry over anything. Over the time they'd spent together he learned that Spot dealt with his emotions through rage and physical exercise. For someone who was short for male standards, he held a lot of anger, Race was actually surprised that there was room for some sadness too.

"Sean...You okay?" he asked. He got no answer. He glanced at the clock and saw that it was already ten after eight; he'd be late to work anyway. He entered the room and went to Spot's side. He placed a hand gently onto Spot's back. "Babe?"

"Fuck off!" He yelled, his voice muffled. He swatted Race's hand away before he wrapped the arm back around his knees. Race stood, unsure of what to do. Spot was generally a miserable person, however he found that he was like a ray of sunshine for his boyfriend. However, it seemed that that was not the case today. He frowned and left the room. He was all for giving comfort where it was needed, however he knew Spot wasn't about to accept any; he'd see it as pity and that was one thing that Spot did not like.

He grabbed the flash drive he needed and made haste toward the door, praying that his boss would arrive later than himself. It seemed that Spot had managed to pull himself together rather quickly since Race found him now out in the kitchen, a glass of water in hand. 

He wrapped an arm around Spot's waist while the other wound around his neck and pulled him into a hug  
"Feel better, Gloomy Gus," he said as he pecked him on the cheek. He was out the door before Spot could offer a proper reply.

* * *

"So, he spit it out and said he didn't like it?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"And then it was all gone in the morning?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"And you saw him crying before you had to leave for work?"  
  
"Yeah." Albert hummed as he considered what Race had told him. "Well, maybe he really does like sweets. Maybe a bit too much..." He turned to Race, who sat on the countertop, a bowl of grapes in hand. "Maybe you ruined a clean streak he had going-" Albert grabbed the bowl from him and hopped up onto the kitchen island across from Race. They'd made it a thing to head to Race's place after work and talk and eat grapes; it was the preferred choice of food when they discussed their daily life struggles.  
  
"Clean streak?" Race echoed. "It's not an addiction I'm talking about, Al." Albert popped a grape into his mouth and shook his head in disagreement.  
  
"Anything can become an addiction, Race. Some are just worse than others. I mean, do you remember me in high school? I was horrible attached to video games. All day, all night. It was eat, sleep, shit and play video games; it was horrible, I couldn't do anything else. My mind was preoccupied with games 24/7." He shuddered at the mention of it. "I'm glad I got over it though, but that was with therapy. Maybe Spot is like that too, just with sweet stuff."

"But I've seen him eat sweet stuff before."  
  
"Maybe it's a particular kind of sweet. Like, for example, my game of choice was Call of Duty." He popped another grape into his mouth. "What kind of cake was it? Vanilla? Chocolate? Carrot?"

* * *

When Spot arrived home, he practically ignored Race who had been stuck at the kitchen island, mulling over his conversation with Albert and with also what he'd seen that morning. He turned around to face the living room and watched in silence as Spot kicked off his shoes and sat down on the arm of their sofa, eyeing Race with a raised brow.  
  
"What?" he asked. "Why're you staring at me like that?"

"Are we going to talk?" The question was innocent enough. The sudden change in Spot's demeanor was quick like a lightening strike. 

"About what?" he snapped, angry flaring in his dark eyes. "What do you want to talk about?"

"What were you crying about this morning?" Race asked. "And don't say nothing. If you're struggling with something, tell me. You know I'd want to help." He watched as Spot stood and started to pace the length of the room, his hands clenching and unclenching into fists; a clear sign that he wanted to hit something, however, from the time he'd known Spot, he'd learned that his boyfriend had been to several anger management classes; it seemed like they paid off in the end since he hadn't had to patch a hole in the wall in nearly six months.

"Two years, Race! Two years! I've tried so hard to keep it away from myself. Two years I haven't had any chocolate," he exclaimed. He exhaled loudly and ran his hands through his hair. " And I ruined it all in one night. It is such a huge problem for me. "  
  
"I was just trying to be romantic," Race said quietly. "I had our whole night planned out..." Spot sighed again and the tension disappeared from his shoulders. The frustrated look on his face softened as he locked eyes with Tony.  
  
"I know....and I loved it so much, Tony....it was very thoughtful of you," he said. "But I shouldn't have that type of shit. I get one taste of it and I just lose control. I ate all of it. Last night." He chuckled half heartedly at himself. "That's what I was crying about this morning. I know it's stupid, but I mean....do you know how many calories that entire thing by itself is?"

"I don't care if you get fat, Sean," Race laughed. The idea of some puppy fat on Spot was actually kind of endearing when he thought about it. "I love you for you."

Race stood and closed the small gap between the two of them. He placed his hands on Spot's hips gently and stepped forward so they were nose to nose, their hips pressed against one another. One hand cupped Spot's face and the other hand went around to press at the small of his back.

"Let me make it up to you."

**Author's Note:**

> Wasn't sure when or how to end this, so I just kind of cut it off.


End file.
